


Companion to 'Bad Habit'

by Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4447331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr/pseuds/Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a companion piece written for Tessombra ( http://tessombra.deviantart.com )'s work 'Bad Habit' ( http://tessombra.deviantart.com/art/Bad-Habit-86518960 ).  Her piece is from Prowl's point of view, mine is from Jazz's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Companion to 'Bad Habit'

**Author's Note:**

> It would probably be best, in fact I highly encourage, if you read http://tessombra.deviantart.com/art/Bad-Habit-86518960 first.

The worst part is that he doesn't even know how he affects me. Had I been sober the first time I saw him, my reaction probably would have been the same. Blaster still laughs at me about it but I honestly didn't see that damn pole.

The face stayed, even before the name registered. The first time his optics met my gaze, truly met, unlike so many I could name who didn't know where to look, who watched me instead of looking at me...

At least that time I didn't run into anything.

All the others from then on were hungry flings. I required the touch; tactile displays of affection or comradery are just about as necessary as energon. My fingers speak, my armor hears.

Him, I had never touched. Never felt. A lifetime of conversations and yet I had never truly met him.

Prowl.

A soft, sensual, purring sound. It fit the way he strode through life, great care taken for every word, every nuance, untouchable, unfathomable, self-reliant, self-contained. Dangerous.

The desire to truly meet him ate me alive. The more he resisted, the more I was entranced.

We rose in rank, worked together more often, still I hungered, until that single moment where my fingers, of their own accord, brushed along his forearm. The lightest of touches. Whisper sweet, achingly--

His aura roiled around my own; I had disturbed his calm, that which made him so quietly assured.

I wanted more.

Maybe it was my over-active imagination but from the way he watched me...did he want more, too? Was it too much to hope?

I began to work to discover him, instead of simply waiting. The others had come to me. Prowl would never come to me. I would have to go to him. Convince him. Sway him. Pride was forgotten-- Pride never entered the measure.

Finally, he agreed to enter my realm. Something as simple as a dance had confused him for so long but I can be relentless, and my requests wore him down. The rec room...we danced. Just he and I. Mingling auras revealed his confusion, his distraction---

He was so stiff that I nearly laughed at him but knew that if I ever did, I would never-- I would lose this one chance. This single, solitary chance to-- to what? He would be gone, forever.

I nearly stumbled with the ferocity my spark denied that thought. My fingers twined with his and I let the music direct me, pressing close, visor out, whispering reassurances and encouragement into his audio, I wanted him to move, the way he did that earned his name. Move against me, Prowl. "Let go...let go, Prowl."

He bent. The stiffness fled. The grace his name lent him took over and by Primus we danced--

Words in his voice at first didn't register. Their negativity and denial delivered their message, however, one I longed to erace, even as I admired their poetry. "Sentient flares. Emotion before reason."

He thought I wanted a fling. To conquer. The music abandoned me in the moment I needed elegance the most but my spark spoke for me. "Not askin' for that. Slow burn."

I let him go, as the moment had come to do so, my hands departing from his armor in a tactile sigh. We would dance again.

He never questioned my arrival in his office, only my departure from the base solar cycles before. My prize danced over my fingers in a thief's pride play to keep fingers nimble, my audios drinking in the way his voice played over those pretty, perfectly articulated words.

In his worry for my wellbeing, as he worried for everyone in his own way, he insulted. I'd grown used to reading his voice over the words spoken.

"Not so addled." The data stream was infected by my thoughts, which I couldn't help, but I was able to keep them strictly business. The smirk, however, came all on its own. I wanted to hear him praise me. "You can tell me you're impressed any time, you know."

"I'm impressed." His tone made it very clear he was indeed, instead of simply playing lip service to stroke my ego, as the humans said. Something in my spark curled and preened, purring that there were other things I could do to impress him, other things he could stroke--

"I-- apologize, Jazz."

The words were stiff, the sentiment genuine. In fact, there were notes of earnest regret buried there as well. "I was not questioning your abilities."

There was only so much I could do to hide the pleasure his new tone caused to squirm through my circuits; marveling admiration, adoration; he'd seen the casual skill I had used to get him the information unscathed. "Don't sweat it, baby," I laughed at him, keeping myself carefully causal as I glided through his office door back into the hall. "Just nice t'know ya care."

I peeked over my shoulder, gratified to see the stunned expression on his features before the door closed. I would win him yet. I knew how to chase him, now, despite the war.

Bothersome, addictive thing, the war was. I didn't remember a time before it, unlike some, and enjoyed using it to my best advantage, to the perplexment of others. It was always interfering, or so my fellows liked to gripe, with our lives, though I knew they were just as addicted to it as I was...kind of like a narcotic addiction. Once you got past the first convulsions of objection, you got a taste for it and too long without a mission or skirmish and everyone would start to jones.

My only other cure than to go play tag with some security system or similarly ply my trade was spending time with Prowl, strangely enough. Or maybe not so strangely. Trying to win him over, entering into a gleeful verbal spar, on my part, anyway, or similarly passing time in his presence...it was the only addiction I'd found that had a substitute fix, this war. Others sighed longingly after the time before or when it would be over, I almost shuddered to imagine my life without it.

There would be no place for me, in peace...no place for soldiers, which is what we had all become. We didn't know how to function in civilian society, our interactions with humans proved that. Every single Autobot _needed_ the war. We needed our fix.

It gave withdrawal a whole new meaning.

I found him in his office, so deep in his thoughts he didn't notice me enter. This was dangerous; I could have been Ravage. I gently draped myself against his shoulders, carefully positioning myself against the tender lattice of sensors around the bases of his doorwings, smiling at how his aura greeted mine. I rested our cheeks together with a peaceful note of contentment and gently tapped a finger against the center of his chevron.

"Nick of energon for 'em, love," I murmured, truly worried about his distraction. When he would get like this, he would forget to recharge, or take energon. I'd found him stretched out before, completely gone-- Ratchet had fits.

"Jazz," he murmured, saying so much with the tone encompassed within the single syllable of my name. He relaxed, resting his head against mine...I wondered if he was consciously aware of the move.

Then he decided he needed to speak again, just when things were at that most _perfect_ of moments--

"What I said before still holds true," he murmured. "I want that made clear; I won't be Blaster for you."

Ah, he felt he needed to explain himself, still. He needed to feel in charge. He still thought, after all this time, that all I wanted was a conquest. The bragging rights, so to speak. Then again, I'd never said otherwise... _not that he'd_ let _me_... Well. That is what this moment was for. I undid the restraints on my spark and allowed it to speak for me, trusting that it had never led me wrong before.

“K’n ya promise to be you, then, Prowler?” I asked quietly. _This is me, Prowl, listen, please...listen past what I'm saying to what I really mean..._ “K’n ya be that mech who didn’t always say yes t’me, but when ya did, ya made it worth it? K’n ya be the mech who cared about me, even if it meant ya had ta say sorry?”

“Yes Jazz—I can, and will be.”

He hadn't even hesitated. My spark leapt. Oh, glory be Primus!

Carried by the exultation, I flowed around until we were face to face with more grace than I ever remembered possessing. Cerulean met sky and our gazes locked, so close I could feel the way my movements had heated his circuits, causing his exhales to press warmly against my lips. "I gotta ask, then," I murmured, feeling the words rumble against him in a purr of pleasure.

"What?" He'd breathed it, with no real volume, simply a thought exchanged by our breath.

“What were ya thinkin’ about, starin’ at the stars like my dream,‘fore I came on ya?”

The desire was too great. The music of silver and sapphire blended, sail white against ebony palms pressing, twining, wings expanding, reaching for the heavens...

It's a wonder the whole of creation wasn't stopped short by the explosion. That everything didn't simply implode in that

single

_perfect_

moment.


End file.
